A Letter From Stan
by Llama-Egg
Summary: "I've only got seven days, Stan." Those were the words that Stanley Marsh feared most. It had been a whole year since he had last spoken to his Super Best Friend, and now it seemed he only had a week left before Kyle was gone for good.
1. Day 8

**Okay, so, um... Welcome to: A Letter From Stan, where if you don't feel any ounce of sadness from reading this story, you are flippin' sadistic. Heh. But really, this is a sad story, so prepare yourself. Well... Prepare for the sadness, and highly likely infrequent and/or slow uploads.**  
**I should probably mention that although this is not necessarily a StanxKyle fic, there's nothing really stopping you from imagining that it is. However I wrote this as just a friendship thing. But it's all cooooool.**  
**South Park © Matt & Trey**

* * *

_I never thought that I'd find myself here so soon. We were always together, and I guess __I always assumed that we would continue like that forever, living a dream we didn't want to ever wake up from._

_It was naive and childish of us to think like that, but at the same time I still, now, would love to relish in the silly fantasy that we'd never leave the other. But you did leave, and now I have no clue where to go on from here._

_You were always my motivation and inspiration, without you I'd probably be kicked out from home on the side of the street begging for money from people who passed by for money that I'd claim was for food, but waste it on drugs._

_...I guess what I'm trying to say is that you were my everything, and then, suddenly... _

_you just left._

-.-.-.-

"Megan West!" Kenny finally announced, beaming with pride. "Definitely Megan West from North Park!" Suddenly his smile faded just as quickly as it had come, replaced with a look of uncertainty. "Maybe it was Alice Chalice from that time in Denver..."

"Or maybe it was with Butters, Kinny." Cartman grumbled lowly, tearing apart his muffin in irritation. "No one really gives a fuck." I briefly wondered why he hadn't bothered eating his food, but cut the thought quickly as an amused smile crossed my lips. Cartman had been set on a strict diet, and even his muffin was filled with tasteless things good for his health. Not that it would help, of course.

Butters nervously fiddled with his fingers, unsure of where to look. "Eric, Kenny and I didn't have sex; my parents would be awful sore if we did." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "They'd be awful sore if I had sex with anybody."

"Well that's fine, because no one would want to have sex with someone the likes of you, Butters." Craig told him dryly, taking a long swig from his can of soda, ignoring the innocent pout on the blonde's face. "If it's any consolation, if you and Cartman were the last boys on the Earth with a handful or so of girls, you'd definitely be first pick of who to reproduce with."

Butters, bless his cotton socks, beamed himself, much like Kenny did earlier. "Why, that's awful nice of you to say, Craig! My parents can't possibly ground me since I'm not the last choice." Still smiling he took a bite from his Hello Kitty cookies.

"Samantha Lail!" Kenny smacked his hand on the table forcefully, and every student in the cafeteria turned their eyes onto him in curiosity. Oh Jesus... "I _definitely_ lost my virginity to Samantha Lail back in seventh grade! If she's as hot as she was back then, I'd definitely fuck her again!" Again, doubt crossed his eyes, "Although I'm sure I lost it a lot earlier than year seven..."

Cartman snorted, pushing his uneaten tray of food away from him, clearly unimpressed. "You'd fuck anyone, Kinny. It's disgusting how easily you'd trust yer cock in the hands of filthy hippy wimin." The bed-headed blonde simply sighed in content, probably imagining some sick sexual fantasy. I pushed away my own tray of food, having lost my appetite.

"What about you, Stanley?" Startled, I turned to face the voice to my side, smiling uneasily at the fact that I had actually been brought into such a stupid topic. "You haven't spoken all lunch, and I was just wondering who your first was?" Did he really have to say it like that? There was a new kid at school and he creeped me out to no end.

But before I could open my mouth to reply, Cartman answered for me. "Jesus, everyone knows that he and the Jew were fuck buddies." I bit my tongue harshly, not wanting to get so worked up over a stupid lie, settling for glaring at the fat fucker, angry that he brought up Kyle. "That's what finally ended your homo relationship, isn't is Stan?"

"Wendy Testaburger." I finally managed to spit out, almost harshly, to the new kid. "Wendy was my first." It was on a warm Summer night, and Wendy and I had been going steady for almost a year. We were both at her house, allocated partners for an upcoming assignment, and since both of her parents were out we got a little frisky, and didn't stop when we probably should have.

The kid nodded slowly, deciding that it seemed suitable. "Ahh. My first was my childhood friend, Sammy Newoy. Kind of awkward, but a very fulfilling experience." Again he looked at me with an odd expression, and as inconspicuously as possible, I inched away from him. I doubted that Sammy Newoy was a girl...

"Who took Wendy's virginity?" Of course it was Clyde who asked this question, no longer busy with eating his tacos. Everyone at the table looked at him, and I sighed inwardly. "What? Both Token and Stan lost their virginity to her. No one's really told me who took hers." On multiple occasions we had tried to explain it to Clyde. He couldn't seem to grasp the simple answer, and kept asking questions.

"Maybe because you're an r-tard, Donovan." Craig spoke loudly. "The fact that you call yourself 'The Donoman' is proof of that."

Offended, the brunette stood from his seat. "I'm not an r-tard! You're the r-tard, r-tard!"

I sighed tiredly, making a mental note to thank Craig for his distraction; I doubted that I had the ability to deal with Clyde's stupidity. I lay my head in my arms, annoyed that my mediocre day had yet to get better. My body tensed as a hand rubbed my back gently, but I didn't move to confront the protagonist, since it was obviously the new kid who creeped me the hell out. I wanted to avoid talking to him at all costs, maybe he would take the hint that I didn't like him in any way, shape, or form.

"Are you alright Stanley?" He asked me instead and I inwardly groaned; there goes that idea. 'Don't fucking touch me!' I wanted to yell at him, but I nodded stiffly, shuddering uncomfortably when he placed his other hand on my thigh, a little too close to my crotch. 'Stop fucking touching me!' "If you ever want to talk to somebody, I want you to know that I'll always try to help the best I can, alright?"

'NO! NO! NO!' "Yes."

"Well alrighty then! I have a feeling that our friendship will be coming a whole lot more, pretty soon! I've always wanted a best friend like you!" He sounded so happy and full of joy, like there was nothing that could bring down his excellent mood. I wanted to stab him in the throat with the plastic knife Cartman was using to try and slit his own wrist.

It was the bell that saved both Cartman and I from the conversations around us, and the group of us all stood to find our classes. I drifted off from most of the group, walking alongside Butters who was in my next class. "Are you alright Stan?" He asked in a cheerily perky mood, his pale blue-green eyes bright with excitement but saddened with worry.

"Yeah," I sighed, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket. "All things considered I'm alright, Butters. It's just one of those days, I guess." It wasn't something I liked to talk about to anyone, but somehow Butters, despite being a massive faggy melvin, was easy to confide to. He'd listen to what you had to say without interrupting, and he'd be so optimistic with how it could all get better, it was difficult to stay upset for long. Well, until he left at least, and then you re-realize how much of a faggy melvin he is and that his advice was pretty much too optimistic to actually work. But still... "It just doesn't seem like it's been a year..."

"I know what you mean; it is all a little frightening." He looked genuinely upset at the fact that I was having an off day. "If it'll make you feel any better we're throwing a party at my house tonight, since it's our last day ever of school."

"Your parents are letting you throw a party?" I asked, taken aback. I had actually forgotten that it was our last day of school, but decided not to voice that fact.

"Ahh, well... Not exactly, Stan. E-Eric found out that my parents weren't going to be home over the weekend, and, uh..." He rubbed his hands together fiercely at the look I gave him. "W-well, he promised my parents wouldn't find out, but... I don't really wanna be the kid who put a stop to our graduation party. As long as there's no alcohol, r-right?"

"Sure Butters..." Yes it's true; he's really stupid enough to think that there wasn't going to be alcohol at a graduation party, of all things. I took a seat at my usual desk, with my short 'friend' sitting to my side. We still had a minute or two before our teacher would put down her book and tell us all to shut up. "Are you sure you want it at your house, though? If you say no, there are plenty of other houses to have it. Like Cartman's own house, for example."

The small boy flushed, biting his lip nervously. "Ahh, ya see Stan, I _really_ can't back out of this. Eric isn't a very nice person when he doesn't want to be."

I sighed loudly, wishing that I could have been talking to someone more interesting... Someone like- "Is he still giving you trouble, Butters? If he is, Kenny and I can sort him out for you."

"You mean with violence?!" He looked horrified, eyes wider than the set of plates my father bought when he thought he was turning into a giant praying mantis.

_"Randy!" My mother had shouted in mortification as my father dragged a massive plate across the living room floor. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"_

_"You wouldn't understand, Sharon!" Dad replied stubbornly, continuing on into the kitchen. "No one understands! The chick at the china-ware house looked at me like I was crazy! I'm not crazy, Sharon! Turning into a giant praying mantis is the norm in every man's life!"_

_"Randy, you've taken this entire thing too far! Wh-what are you doing now, Randy?!" Stunned, the woman just stood there as her husband walked back outside to latch his hands around a large bag of insect pellets. My mother and I decided that it would be best if we didn't tell him that the bag wouldn't even fit through the door.._

_Dad scoffed, and began to push and pull and do whatever he could to get the giant bag to move from its spot in the snow. It didn't move an inch. "Are you going to have this same attitude when I actually am a giant praying mantis? For Christ's sake, Sharon! Would it kill you to help me in my time of need?! Tell her Stanley; you understand what your old man's going through."_

_"I don't want to be any part of this, dad." I dead-panned, but was forced to respond when he glowered at me. "You're not turning into an insect, dad."_

_He scoffed, and finally stopped trying to drag the reluctant bag of insect food, instead grabbing a second giant plate, the same size as the first one he rolled into the house. "You're as blind-sighted as your mother, Stan. It breaks your heart to imagine that I'll never be the same again." His eyes began to well up and he deserted the plate, instead rushing to give me a massive, wet hug, stroking the back of my head tenderly. "I'm still your father, Stanley," He sobbed dramatically; "I'm still your father!" He broke away from me, and threw himself onto the snowy outside ground. "Oh no! It's happening! I'm changing!" He shook his body violently, and made strange gagging sounds._

_Mum and I walked away before his 'transformation' was complete. Congratulations dad. You're finally a full-fledge retard._

"No, I mean we'll have a heart to heart with him, since he's a very understanding, caring person who tries his hardest to please people." I spoke sarcastically, barely managing to stop myself from banging my head against the table repeatedly.

Before he could reply with some faggy whole-hearted answer, the teacher was already standing up the front with a long meter ruler in her grasp, tapping it loudly on the blackboard. "Sit down and shut up, guys." She liked to pretend to be a strict teacher, although she was quite fun, and, for some reason, that really captured every students attention, "I have a few enjoyable things organized for the last lesson we will ever have together, such as painting each other's nails and styling our own hair." Of course she was speaking sarcastically; she'd write a few 'inspirational' quotes on the board and let us do whatever the hell we wanted. "Firstly though, we'll do a roll-check. Anybody not here?" Her eyes scanned the classroom, and she sighed as she set the ruler on her desk. I watched as she seemed to be counting down for something. What was she waiting for?

The door burst open, and a dishevelled looking teen was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily in exhaustion like he had just run a marathon. "Sorry I'm late, miss." He panted a reply with flushed cheeks. My frown deepened; that was probably the nineteenth time that week he had been late to a class. Each time the teacher would smile easily, and brush it aside as nothing. But it wasn't nothing. This particular student was never usually late for class, but recently he would be turning up half way through the lesson, or leaving fifteen minutes early.

It was puzzling.

Not that I cared, of course.

"Have you noticed that Kyle Broflovski has been late to almost every class this past month, Stan?" Butters asked in a low voice, leaning into my side in fear that the teacher would catch him out although she was busy talking quietly to the redheaded Jew.

"Nope." I lied casually, using my finger to doodle over the desk. "I didn't notice it at all until you mentioned it just now. But I don't care enough to wonder why it is."

The blonde hummed to himself in thought, before crying out loudly, much like Tweek Tweak would, "OH BAJEEZUS! THERE MUST AN ALIEN PARASITE STUCK IN HIS BRAIN, STAN!" Everyone turned to him, and I covered my face with both of my hands, mortified by his outburst. "W-WE GOTTA HELP KYLE BEFORE IT TAKES OVER HIS ENTIRE BRAIN, AND THEN FORCES HIM TO KILL US ALL WITH HIS LASER EYES!"

"Aww, no Butters. You've got it all wrong, there's no alien parasite in my brain." I couldn't see him, but Kyle sounded amused. "If there was, I'd be forced to kill you for revealing the fact that I was the body to an alien host, and then erase everyone's memory of your existence."

"You're right, Kyle!" I sunk deeper into my chair uncomfortably, although Butters sounded mighty pleased. "Isn't it a relief to know that your best friend isn't going to kill us all, Stan?"

I didn't answer, or even dare to uncover my face. The tension in the air rose, and I could sense that every silent member in the class room was listening in on the conversation. I could have killed Butters at that moment; I didn't care for any consequences. Butters just needed to die. It had been a year since Kyle and I last spoke, and as far as I'm concerned, it had been over a year since we were any form of friends. Everyone knew that. Well, everyone except for Butters, it seemed. It was a long, awkward silence, and everyone seemed to be waiting for my answer, Butters even nudged me in the side and watched me as I cringed.

"Sorry, I forgot," Kyle seemed to curse apologetically, breaking the tension, "I created this weird device the other day, and I used Stan as a test subject. Basically, just the mention of lasers and alien parasites in the same sentence sends him into overdrive, and he loses his voice and whatnot for a while. Regulation sentence is 'Stan, your dad got a squirrel this morning and he's trying to train it to enter a dog show'."

"What?" Stunned, I finally looked at my ex friend who shrugged with a 'what can you do?' expression. "God damn it."

"Gee Kyle, that's pretty neat. Could you maybe get me a device like that?" By that time the chatter amongst students had started up again, as the teacher wrote a few words on the board.

I watched as the corner of Kyle's mouth pulled up into a one-sided smile. "Sorry dude, still working out the kinks. Seeing as this experiment was a success, I'm going to try and alter it to make him forgive me for being a total ass." His green eyes appeared to waver as they searched my own.

"I don't think there's ever going to be a device advanced enough, or with enough power to make that happen." I said slowly, not moving my eyes from his until he got the sincerity of my words. "So go fuck yourself."

He waved his hand dismissively, not caring too much for the insult I threw at him, although he looked a bit upset. "Maybe later, but Stan... We really need to talk about what happened. I am _so_ sorry, but if you would just let me explain-"

"No." I dead-panned, refusing to show emotion as Butters glanced between the two of us in confusion. "I'm pretty certain that a year is too long to wait to apologize for being the world's greatest douche."

"A week from today would be too long to wait to apologize, Stan, but you don't understand! I get it, you hate me for what I did, and you think I'm the worst friend ever, and I am! But just let me explain why!"

Butters raised his hand nervously, and took the glare I directed at him as permission to speak, "Did you two seriously have gay butt sex with each other, and was it so unsatisfying that it made things so awkward between you guys that you both had to cancel your friendship? I always thought Cartman was lying, and that you two were still the best of friends, but now I'm not so sure..."

"We didn't ever have sex, Butters." I snapped irritated, "We didn't ever kiss, or ever confess to having non-existent gay feelings for each other."

Dumbfounded, Kyle stared blankly in disbelief of the blonde's words, before shaking his head and looking at me pathetically. "I made a massive mistake, Stan, and I really want to take it all back."

"And I want to take back 17 years of friendship, asshole!" I shouted loudly, standing up from my seat, fuming. "But no matter how hard I wish, those 17 wasted years are still there!"

Silence. There was not a sound echoing in the classroom. "I... I see." He was blinking a lot, and staring intently at the wall. I didn't feel an ounce of regret at that moment, I was actually glad at the humiliation he must have felt at the time, and wished that Cartman could have been there to witness. "I wish that you didn't have to feel that way, Stan."

"Stan Marsh, Kyle Broflovski." The teacher finally called, snapping out of her stunned interest. "In the hall with your bags, both of you." Huffing, I picked up my bag, and followed the red head out into the hall, barely catching the words on the board. _Remember your past, but don't live in it. Accept it, and move on._

We stood silently outside the room for a few moments, me quietly fuming and Kyle, quietly fretting. "You didn't mean what you said, did you Stan?" I ignored him, biting down on my tongue until I tasted blood. "Would you ever forgive me? ...I'm sorry."

"Too late, Ky." I said, in a softer tone this time, uncrossing my arms. Even though I hated him for what he did, there was still a part of me that hated to see him like this. I hated that part of me.

He shook his head violently, refusing to accept what I foolishly believed to be the truth. "No it's not Stan, no it's not! You of all people should understand that!"

"Me of all people? Dude, we were best friends, and then suddenly you started treating me like some faceless person in the crowd. It fucking hurt, especially whenever I tried talking to you, and you'd just look at me blankly, like you'd never met me before and I was wasting your valuable time."

"Let me explain, please. It doesn't matter if you don't forgive me, I just need you to understand why-"

"No." I cut him of harshly, angry again. "I don't want your excuses, Kyle."

I turned from him and just walked away, thinking that he didn't deserve forgiveness. But the fact is that if I had have just looked back I would have seen the tears streaming down his too-pale cheeks, the blood trickling from his nose and the way he'd grimace pathetically, clutching his chest in pain. And after seeing that, I would have turned around and pleaded for forgiveness from him. He didn't deserve to be treated like that, but I, at the time, refused to believe it.

He had hurt me, and I wanted to hurt him back so that he could experience the pain he had put me through.

_Kyle was grinning to himself, although I didn't know why, as he wrote down on a piece of paper what I assumed to be notes for our project. He couldn't seriously find this work fun, could he? All we were doing was a stupid assignment on the background of a famous person in history. _

_There were several large books around us, opened on a page with information about our selected person, and about forty crumbled papers strewn around my room from our little war earlier in the day. Our jackets and hats were tossed onto my unmade bed and my new laptop was opened onto Skype, although it was signed in as Do Not Disturb._

_And yet, still Kyle sat with a massive grin, not bothering to let me in on what was so amusing. A few minutes earlier we had been talking as we usually did, and idly doing our homework as we spoke, until his face suddenly lit up with what might have been amused realization, and he promptly began to furiously write things down._

_I stared at him as he picked up a new page of paper, his first one having been used up completely. It was three sheets in, before his sparkling green eyes turned to me. "Do I have to do everything, Stan?" He taunted, and I stuck out my tongue at him. "This assignment has to be co-written, and it's disappointing to think that you've barely written a thing!"_

_"Forgive me," I rolled my eyes, bowing a little with mock respect, "I keep forgetting that you're captain of the butt pirates."_

_"You want help?" Kyle hinted eagerly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Because I'm pretty damn set on this whole assignment." I raised a brow, urging the smartass to continue. "There are a few important things you need to firstly remember; Jeremy Clopton worked part time at the brothel in the 1600s, dressed as a woman so he could earn extra cash; he once fought a massive dragon, which only the English lacking indigenous people saw, and later painted on cave walls; he had sex with a knight's horse for a silver coin."_

_I stared at him blankly although the corners of my mouth threatened to twitch upwards into a smile. "You forgot that his wife was eaten by the kraken. The last words she ever heard were said by her lunatic husband, 'RELEASE THE KRAKEN!."_

_Kyle tackled me to the ground, and we both burst into laughter. "The Kraken hath no mercy for the mere mortals!" He cried boldly, keeping me pinned beneath him._

_"Wouldeth a mortal hath the power to be able to releaseth the mighty Kraken, thou strumpet?!"_

_"I guess not."_

_Smirking evilly, I grabbed at his wrists and forced him onto his back so that I was the one pinning him. "I doth hath thee under thine control, prepare, evil Kraken, to be annihilated..eth... by thine own hands that touchethed my lovers supple breasts, how dare thee, evil creature! How dare thee kill thine bride!"_

_Kyle groaned, "The Kraken hath been defeated by thou sucky speech!"_

_I smirked, lowering my head so we were practically nose to nose, and my friend raised a brow in amusement, "Nay, the Kraken hath only been woundethed by thine words, but shall greet death by thine bareth hands!"_

_"You really suck at this Stanley, but continue; the Kraken is merely amused at the fact that you believe you can use your puny human hands to destroy him."_

_"Ahh, refuse thy repulsive words. Thine shall use but a mightyeth and powerfuleth sword!" I stretched an arm out, grasping for something, and lent back to hold it up triumphantly. "Behold! Excalibur!"_

_"Oh wow." Kyle laughed. "You killed the Kraken with a measly Earth pencil."_

_"Mock thine all thou wanteth, this 'measly...eth... Earth pencil' hath magical properties, granth the nameth Excalibur!" Holding the tip of the pencil just above his heart, I bent down nose to nose again. "Any last words, Kraken?"_

_"St-Stanley! Kyle!" My mother shrieked, and I turned my head to see her dropping a box in the door way, her face void of any colour. "What the hell are you two doing?!"_

_I glanced down at Kyle again, and he glanced up at me, our noses touching, before we turned to my horrified mother again, confused. "We're doing homework, mum. I was just about to defeat the mighty Kraken, and Kyle was about to have his ass handed to him."_

_Mum covered her eyes, and took a few steps back until she was up against the wall. "Uh... Uh... Sorry to interrupt, boys. Um, Stanley your parcel has arrived. Let's not tell your father about this, alright?"_

_I finally leaned away from Kyle, still holding to pencil gently to his chest. "Why can't dad know?" Didn't mum tell him that I was getting a few things for my old dog Sparky? I glanced at Kyle, confused, silently asking him if he had any idea what the hell was going on, and he shrugged in reply._

_She removed her hands from her eyes and shifted uncomfortably. "I'll leave you boys alone, sorry for disrupting. I'll, uh, I'm going out for a little while."_

_"Bye Mrs Marsh!" Kyle grinned politely, and my mother practically sprinted back down the stairs. "...Maybe she's pregnant and really needed to puke, but, at the same time wanted to admire how grown up her baby boy was."_

_"Maybe... But don't say that! I don't want to have a little brother or sister at this age. That's just gross to think my parents still have sex." I shuddered in disgust, trying to erase the awful image in my head. _

_"Aww!" Kyle cooed cutely, battering his eyelids playfully, "has the widdle Stanley-Wanley had his widdle mindey-windey scarred for lifey-wifey?"_

_I huffed, glaring at him from my position atop of him. "Don't forget who still wields Excalibur, strumpet." _

_"Dude, the Kraken has already destroyed everything you loved, and anyone you've ever known and cared for. You're doomed to spend eternity alone in the ruins with Cartman."_

_"Aw..." I pouted at my Jewish friend, removing 'Excalibur' from its place over his heart, and staring at it dejectedly. "You mean I let my sexy wife get killed for nothing?"_

_"Well, you did get to say 'Release the Kraken!' and have the Kraken actually released. I think that that's always a bonus." He pointed out, before grinning again. "But the Kraken is always looking for a new bride, if you're interested." He sat up, and I struggled not to fall as I fell from his hips to his lap. _

_"You expect me to marry the Kraken, Ky?" I raised a brow, laughing a little. "But what could I give him?"_

_He grinned mischievously, leaning to the side a little as he folded a blank sheet of paper into a neat paper hat. "If you were his mating partner, your children would be so incredibly ugly people would commit suicide just by looking at them." He caught my withering look and laughed, using a pencil to write on the hat before sticking it on my head roughly. "What? Everyone knows that majorly ugly children are the product of an ugly parent and a sexy parent, that's why you don't see it happen these days! Of course, compared to the Kraken you're obviously the ugly one..." He coughed, and started laughing when I punched him roughly in the arm._

_"Kyle!" Huffing, I took of the paper hat from my head, and stared at it for a while. "'K's Bitch'?"_

_My Jewish friend nodded eagerly, snatching it from my grasp to put back on my head. "Kraken's Bitch, but it also works as Kyle's Bitch. Just so you remember who owns your ass when you're famous."_

_"Well then, in that case..." I quickly picked up a blank sheet of paper from the ground and tried to remember how to fold it to make a hat... In half, then half again... Maybe turn the corners in a centimeter or two... Then completely rip this edge off... Rip off the other side to make it even... Scrunch the paper up... Cry dramatically... I fail at life... Realize that I could just make Kyle do it for me... Threaten to attack his tickle spot... Laugh evilly as he immediately wields to my command... Have several paper balls thrown at my face... Attack the Jew... Have my ass handed to me... Threaten to destroy the Bitch hat... Kyle cries... Am I merciful enough to spare him... Slap him with the Bitch hat... Lead him to the dungeon... Kyle attacks me from behind... Holy shit when did he get good at pins... All I wanted was a God damn hat... Really am his bitch... "Fuck."_

_"I thought you knew better than that, Stan." Kyle sighed dramatically, picking up the dropped hat he made for me, and fixing it up so that it had his name on it, instead of just the K. "Didn't think that I'd have to prove how much of my bitch you really are. I'm not sharing _my_ Stanley with any dark Lord."_

_I huffed, grumbling as he put the hat back on my head. "Don't be surprised when I lace your food with poison, Kyle. I'll serve you your breakfast, and then stand to the side as you take your first bite. 'Hmm, this tastes slightly different than usual' you'll say, and then I'll reply with 'Yeah master, I put in a new ingredient. It's called HAHA! REVENGE IS SERVED BUTT PIRATE!' and then your face will turn blue and you'll die... And then I'll be alone again since everyone was killed by the Kraken... I'll cry because I killed my bestest friend ever... For days on end I'll stare blankly at the hat, heartbroken... Then I'll be so alone, and driven to insanity, I'll be forced to - Kyle?!"_

_He had pulled me to my feet and wrapped his thin arms around me in a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of my neck. Confused, I returned the hug. Even though I could barely breathe, and it almost seemed like Kyle was crying, it was kinda nice._

_"Don't talk like that, Stan." He said as he finally pulled away, allowing me to breathe. "If I died, you'd never be alone, even if you did kill me in a spur of the moment revenge. I'd be on the other side, and I'd bring back those who meant a lot to you, even your sexy wife who was killed first, so that you'd always have someone there. A-and I'd be there too." He nodded firmly, and I smiled._

_"What's going on Kyle? All this is kinda outta the blue." It was the slightly panicked look in his eyes that made me grow weary with worry. "Are you OK...?"_

_"I... I'm..." I could practically see the thoughts going through his head, although I couldn't see what the thoughts actually were. He was probably contemplating the pros and cons of telling me. "Nothing, nothing. I'm fine Stan, it's just... I love you, probably more than my own brother, and I don't think I let you know that enough."_

_I laughed, a gave him a hug, ruffling up his hair. "You don't have to tell me that Kyle, I know exactly what you mean. I-"_

_"Boys!" My dad was panting in the doorway, his face bright red from exhaustion and panic. "Boys, we've gotta go! This whole town is about to blow up! We must go out in live in the forest, and become one with the forest people! C'mon, c'mon let's go!" When he decided that we weren't going to willingly go with him, he grabbed our wrists and dragged us downstairs, and out the front door. "This way boys, this way! Hurry up, we don't have much longer!"_

_"Jesus Christ, dad! What the hell are you going on about?!"_

_He stopped abruptly and held my shoulders firmly. "It's a full moon, Stanley! Don't you understand?! We got rid of all the wolves in our area! No wolves on a full moon _obviously_ means that the town's going to blow up!"_

_Around us, I finally noticed, people were running in circles screaming and crying and smashing cars for no actual reason. 'Think of the children!' someone was shouting loudly, throwing a new born child up into the air. "Jesus Christ!"_

_"Uhh, excuse me Mr Marsh." Kyle spoke up, watching the baby get caught by Kenny who was running around with his underwear over his purple clothes, cape flying behind him. Did he have any idea how gay he looked? "I know that the town's in jeopardy and all, but Stan and I really need to finish our assignment for school."_

_"I can't let you back there for that reason alone, but if you're going to risk yourselves to be our inside men..." He handed us a walkie talkie, tears in his eyes. "God speed, my sons. God speed."_

_Every half hour, my dad would check in with us, asking us how everything was. It wasn't until midnight that Kyle and I decided to fool dad into thinking that the town was burning, and we were caught in flames as the distant echoes of wolf ghosts rattled our senses before we turned the talkie off, and didn't reply to his cries and pleas for the rest of the night._

_"I gotta get up pretty early tomorrow," Kyle let me know as we huddled into the bed together, talking softly even though we were the only people in the entire town, "I don't want you to be a cranky shit in the morning, so I won't bother waking you up."_

_"You're so thoughtful," I laughed breathlessly, grinning at him in the dark, "Going to your mystery place out of town like last week?" He nodded once, his eyes appearing silver from the moon's light. "G'night, Ky."_

_"Good night Stan."_

_Those were the final words we exchanged, and when I woke up in the morning I found a letter on my pillow. I was startled when I read the words, but the worst had yet to come. Monday at school I went to see how he was, and question his note, but as soon as I called out his name, he turned to me blankly. "Do I know you?"_

* * *

I was already a little drunk by the time I arrived at Butters' house later that night, flanked by a sober Kenny who hadn't wanted to drink. He was in a worse mood than I, which was strange considering the circumstances. Alcohol at a party filled with lots of pretty, influenced girls who would surely be looking for a good time; he should have been having a field day.

The front door was wide open, allowing us to walk right on in. Everyone in our graduated year was there, plus quite a few plus ones. Everyone was dressed for the carefree occasion, dancing in the living and dining room while those who wanted a drink were in the kitchen pouring a new cup. They all looked smashed already, despite it being barely past 10:30. Well, it _had_ started at 7, I supposed.

Kenny put his hand on my shoulder, grabbing my attention. He looked to be a mixture of upset and stressed. It made no sense that he didn't want to drink himself silly, desperate to get rid of his miserable emotions.

That's what I would have done.

He said that he was going to find someone, saying it was urgent that I spoke to them as soon as humanely possible. He vowed to find me later, either that night or the next day, he didn't really specify. He looked completely serious. I smiled at him little, nodding lightly to let him know that I had heard him.

Kenny was always there for me.

Kenny wanted to soothe my pain.

You could say that Kenny was an attempt at replacing the irreplaceable Kyle Broflovski.

Maybe I could find Wendy. She would have already been there, and tended to be able to get me in a better mood, even though we weren't actually a couple anymore. She tended to know the right things to say, which was probably the reason why I had always I loved her. More than her beauty and looks, her smartness, the way she held herself with such confidence... she could make a man about to jump off the cliff, love life again.

Unfortunately it wasn't Wendy I found, but the new kid. Well, actually, he found me. Of course. He was beaming brightly, and it looked like he was going to hug me tightly and rest his head over my heart. Wait. That's what he did. It was like I was his teddy bear, and he didn't want anyone to take me away. I fucking hated that new kid. Even though he technically wasn't even new; he had arrived halfway through the year, but I couldn't be stuffed remembering his name.

I didn't care enough about his existence to be bothered with it.

He was surprisingly strong, and I was barely able to push him off of me, "What the fuck do you want?" I asked him sourly, annoyed that my previous mission had been brought to a complete fucking halt, "Scratch that, why the fuck do you keep touching me?!"

"You always seem down, Stanley," He pouted at me 'cutely', and I shuddered. I fucking hated my full name enough without _him_ using it like that, so casually, "And a touch of affection is enough to bring any mood up, up, up! Since we're friends, I can't bear to see you so depressed all the time. I want us to be able to tell each other everything! So I'll go first; I wet my bed up until the age of ten." I felt sick, and it was more than just the fact that he had spilled something so... egh. There was a possibility I knew someone who was absolutely disgusted with urine at that age, and would only be able to 'handle' it if it meant the difference between life and death.

Just a possibility though.

Nothing more.

"Stan!" I heard my name being called, and felt their hand on my shoulder before I saw their face. Ah fuck. Of course it had to be him; it was always him, and I was nowhere near drunk enough to be able to deal with him, "I'm sorry, I know you don't want to see me, but it's _urgent_!"

I rolled my eyes, feeling irritation as I could surely feel the light buzz of the alcohol I had drank before coming here wear off, "Damn right I don't want to see you, Broflovski. So piss off."

"Alright, I get it," he sighed, depressed that he had been denounced to last name basis, "But please let me explain myself. I understand if you still won't forgive me after that, but you at least deserve to know why!"

"Deserve to know why?" I felt my anger rise, and sure enough there were curious onlookers, but I didn't care. I wanted to punch him in the face... his overly pale face. "I deserved to know why a fucking _year_ ago! I deserved to know why before you even fucking disappeared! You left me in the dark with nothing more than some silly little note that gave _no_ fucking explanation!"

He looked like he was about to cry. He looked like a pathetic mess. "Not here, Stan... Please not here... Can we talk outside where it's a little private?" He didn't want anyone else to see him so weak, but he didn't care if I did, I had seen him at his worst more than once, and vice versa. But I didn't want to take it outside, I wanted him to be humiliated, at least I _did_. But then he pleaded quietly, "_Please Stan_."

So we walked outside, across the front yard, and trudged across the road where we were a little more distanced from the houses along the street, and most importantly away from the prying eyes and ears. But, just to spite him, I dragged along the new kid who seemed overjoyed that I allowed him to tag along.

"I don't know how to explain this, but-" his eyes caught sight of the teen behind me, and he frowned, "I was kind of hoping for privacy..."

The new kid rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest, "Whatever you say to Stanley can be said in front of me. I, unlike you, am not going to just leave him to fend for himself when he obviously needs support. Besides, you're pretty damn lucky he even agreed to get away from the crowd, so you wouldn't even have to feel the humiliation you deserve. Watch yourself." I could have actually learned to tolerate that kid if he were to keep up that whole protection against the Jew ordeal.

"First of all," Kyle wasn't sure whether to be irritated or mad, so his voice just came out in a 'wtf' tone, "don't call him 'Stanley', he hates that. To you it's _Stan_. Secondly, do you even _know_ what the hell is going on? This isn't something a little kiddy like you can intervene in; this is between two fully grown people, of whom you're not. The kind of support he needs is the kind that only _I _can give him. Thirdly, I already know what I do and do not deserve, and don't need some _short_ little _brat_ telling me. I _know_ that I'm lucky for him to even be able to tolerate my existence right now. And finally, what the fuck is wrong with you kid?!" He rolled his eyes, and turned back to me, "Stan-"

"You think that you can just waltz back into _Stanley's_ life like this?" Kyle wasn't lying when he said I hated the new kid using my name, but for that moment I knew that I needed to deal with it, so I didn't even have to say a thing. Maybe I could have even walked away and left them to it, they probably wouldn't have even noticed I was gone. "You left him, and you missed your chance of forgiveness, or even the possibility of knowing him like I do. Back the fuck off, or I'll make you."

Kyle sent me a quick 'you have got to be kidding me' look, and sighed in annoyance, "Look, do I need to repeat myself? Don't call him Stanley. You are neither his mother nor his friend. He hates his name as much as he hates you. Which is a lot. Stan. Say it with me. Sssstaaaaaan. Got it? Ssstaaaaaaan. Nothin' to it. Stan. Simple, see? Clearly, little fireball, you have no idea who I am. Kyle Broflovski? Ring a bell? You know, the 'day walker' Jew who is Stan's _super_ best friend, and, according to just about every Tom, Dick and Harry, his fuck buddy." The new kid looked taken aback, a little pale from this new piece of information, "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"You're not my friend, Ky," I almost whispered, shocked with why I hadn't shouted it at him.

"I... I know... But you're still mine, Stan. Even if I haven't really done anything to prove that true. But the fact that this is the second time today you've called me by my nickname makes me a little hopeful,"

I bit my tongue, turning towards the house before looking at him for a few moments. My face fell, and I glared lightly at the snow beneath our feet, "I think that we should make it clear that we don't hold any form of friendship together, anymore. We haven't since you left. Sorry if calling you 'Ky' gives you any shred of hope, it's just an old habit that hasn't yet died. I have a new best friend, and it's him. I'd appreciate it if you stop acting so rudely to him,"

"Yeah, okay," He rolled his eyes, clearly disbelieving what I had said, "I don't think this is working, dude. You know you hate him, and you know you're just using him right now to get back at me. Point taken, I get it. He's some crappy, half-assed attempt at replacing me. I'm flattered that you would go through the trouble, but there's no need to, _really_. You don't even know his _name_ for Christ's sake!"

This seemed to fire the new kid up, a cruel smirk beginning to set like cement on his lips, "You think you really mean that much to him?" He laughed, "Stanley and I have a bond that you guys never had, which is why we're best friends! It was like we were meant to be! You're just so fucking jealous that you've started creating these _delusions_ in your sick fucking head, so you don't have to deal with the fact that he doesn't need you anymore!"

Kyle looked like he wanted to puke as he eyed me wearily, "You're not fucking this short prick, are you?" He took my disgusted look as his answer, and sighed in relief, "Oh thank God. I was worried for a moment there. Wow. Heh... Look, kid, when you've known Stan since you were both in diapers, get back to me, until then, kindly shut your fucking mouth. This doesn't concern you."

"Say one more word and I'll kick your fucking ass!" The new kid threatened with a terrifying death glare. I was surprised that they both had firecracker personalities, although Kyle was a _lot _more tamed than what I was used to, which was probably good in regards to the new kid's safety, "Even if we _were _having sex, we wouldn't care if you didn't like it! Stanley is _mine_, not _yours_!"

"Good luck with that kid," He turned his attention onto me, having decided to ignore the short male, "You certainly know how to pick 'em, I'll give you that," He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, "I don't know how to start, especially with the little flame burning right there. Maybe I should just come out with it, just cleanly, say the words directly, no hesitation, nothing stopping me, nothing to delay me, just gonna say it... Stan, I'm g-"

"I didn't come out here for your excuse Kyle," I shrugged, cutting him off, although not harshly.

"Then... Why?"

I shrugged again, "Dunno. I wanted to hit you."

"Oh..." The red head looked completely exhausted, but removed his hands from his pockets and stood up tall, "Well, go ahead then. Free hit. Just... Don't aim for my chest; it's not very good for my heart at the moment,"

"Well, I can't do it _now_," I mumbled, feeling pretty lousy, "I don't feel angry _now_." He and the new kid fighting sort of burned all of the anger out of me, leaving me feeling like an empty, pathetic, shell.

Kyle took in a deep breath, looking troubled. He should have just told me what was wrong at that moment, even though I said I didn't want to hear it, he could have just came right out with it, forcing me to listen to the truth, but instead he chose to do something else. I didn't understand, if he wanted me to hear him out, then would have been the perfect time. I guess he didn't feel that it was right and for some crazy fucking reason, he must have wanted to be punished, "You feel pathetic, don't you?" He began in a shaky voice, "And truth be told, you kind of are, Stan. You're still hung up on me, even after everything I did to you, you're still thinking back to what it was like when we were friends. You know I don't deserve it. I don't deserve your friendship. I _ruined_ you. I _left_ you _alone_ to _suffer_ in the _dark_. I deserve to disappear, and to never come back because I was supposed to be your friend, and I just _left_. I was selfish. I shouldn't be forgiven. Weren't your parents fighting every day? Weren't you being blamed by them for everything? Where was I, Stan? Huh? Where was your so called best friend?" It was working; I was getting mad. My hands were clenched by my sides, and I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to stop talking, to stop reminding me. He just ignored every little plea I made, begging him to just shut up and leave me alone, "You want me to leave you alone? It's what I'm good at, isn't it? But the _one_ time you want me to leave, I won't. Just like the _many_ times you needed me I wasn't there. So where was I? Answer me Stan, where the fuck was I?! Where was your _best fucking friend_?!"

"I don't know!" I growled, punching him as hard as I could in his gut, struggling to hold myself back from hitting him again as he was hunched over in the snow, groaning quietly.

But he wasn't finished yet, as he looked up at me in pain, cocking his head to the side a little, "There was nothing wrong with me, was there? I still showed up at school each day. I still studied for upcoming tests. I still did what I used to do. But, you didn't know where I was. Your friend was gone, and he wasn't coming back for you. Instead, he treated you like you were a stranger. No, he treated you worse than that. Your best friend just watched as you suffered alone. He watched as you cried by Stark's Pond most days because your world was falling apart, and you didn't even have anyone to make you feel the least bit better. Guess who that was? Yep, that was _me_, Stan. That was _me_ who watched you slowly die on the inside. And. I. Did. Nothing. To. Help. You."

"Shut up!" I shouted, hitting him again, sloppily falling atop of him, tears falling down my cheeks, "Just shut up. Please... Ky, please... _please_."

It seemed to take him a few moments to recover, and when he did he pushed against me, so he was pinning me to the numbingly cold snowy ground. He was crying too, but he kept on with the hurtful, hate inducing words, "Why now, you ask yourself. Why now? Why not back when it mattered? Why didn't he tell me when I held Excalibur over his heart? Why didn't he tell me when we lay beside each other for what he knew would be the last time?" He was absolutely distraught at that moment, eyes full of regret, "Why didn't he even tell me in that fucking pathetic note he left on my pillow? Why didn't he? Is it because he wouldn't be satisfied until everything in your life was completely torn; obliterated? He wouldn't be happy until you was miserable, unable to move on? But you were moving on, weren't you Stan?" At that point we were both crying pathetically, and he was still pinning me to the ground, unrelenting. As much as I hated to admit it to myself, he was warm. His hands intertwined tightly with mine which he held to the ground, not too far from my head. His breath, which was coming out in short, shallow huffs. His legs which straddled my hips, kept my body in place. I didn't expect this. Kyle was warm. "You were finally close to being able to be truly happy. You were finally able to handle the fact that I wasn't going to come back. I wasn't going to ruin your life anymore, because you were finally able to control it again. No more school meant you wouldn't have to see me. You wouldn't have to be taunted with the fact that I left you in the dark, where you were stuck for a _long_ time, unable to escape, while I appeared to be perfectly fine. But I came back. I came back when I was no longer needed. Tell me why I came back, Stan."

I shook my head violently, clenching my eyes shut. I didn't want to have to suffer through this. He was right. Everything he said was right. I was finally moving on. Even though I was still hung up on him, I was finally getting on with life. I was finally getting over him. I managed to overpower him, so this time I was the one pinning him to the ground, "_I don't know_! Is that what you wanted to hear, Kyle? Did you want to hear that now that you've come back, I'll probably never get over the fact that even though I hate you I still fucking love you! You fucking _left_ Kyle! You can't choose to come back after so long! You can't just walk in and out of my life as you please! You shouldn't have left that note, Ky... It made everything so much worse. I read it every day, hoping that it would magically change and give me the answer. But, even now, it just makes me more confused. 'I'll never forget you.' Really? It sure fucking felt like you did!" I loosened the tight grip I had on him, and got off of him, sitting in the snow pathetically, covering my face with my still warm hands. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried so much, or the last time I had even seen Kyle cry. But we cried together, and it felt strangely comforting. "You thanked me and left... You _thanked_ me, dude... It doesn't make any sense..."

He crawled closer to me so we were knee to knee, and he grabbed my hands with his, forcing me to look into his eyes. He was smiling, just a little... "I didn't come back because I wanted you to hurt; I've done enough of that, even though that's kind of the reason I left in the first place. It's because this time it's _me_ who needs _you_, Stan. Just like we were ten, and things came between us, you needed me. This time it's different. I _need_ you more than I ever have. A week of your time is all I'm asking for. A week of you to pretend like we're still friends. You deserve to have known truth the second I found out, but it's not too late... Not yet, anyway... Stan, this confession has been delayed, but it's time I finally got the guts to tell you... I'm d-"

Kyle yelped, suddenly on his back and grimacing in pain. "How dare you!" the new kid growled, standing over the red head, a menacing look in his eyes, "How _dare_ you try to fill Stanley's head with all of your filthy lies! Did you really think that I was just going to let you trick _my_ best friend like that?! Did you really think I was going to let you continue ruining his life?!" He threw a fast, powerful punch down, making sure it connected with Kyle's chest, directly over his heart.

I was frozen, I couldn't move. It sounded like he was choking on his own blood. "K-Kyle...?" It seemed to take a lot of effort for him to roll over onto his hands and knees so he wouldn't drown in the red liquid that was now staining the pure, white snow. He was coughing a lot, clutching his chest in agony. "Kyle...?" I could hear the sound of his breaths, they sounded too forced. He... He couldn't breathe! "Kyle!"

The new kid held me back when I tried to go to the Jew's aid. I was already drained, and he was unnaturally strong for his frail size, easily able to tear me away. "He's trying to trick you Stanley," He assured me, dragging me across the street, back over to the house as I struggled against his grasp. I needed to go back! I needed to help! "He's a liar; he wants you to plunge back into your depression. He didn't like that you were moving on, he didn't like that you weren't miserable. You were close to being happy, and that's why he came to you. He wanted you to suffer worse. He wanted to remind you that he had complete control over you."

"He... He did?" I practically whimpered, unable to see my old friend suffering now that I was inside Butters' house again, "N-no. Kyle's not like that..."

"Are we talking about the same person here? He _left_ you without a word for an entire year! Don't tell me that you've already _forgotten_ that." He stopped moving, and turned to face me directly, looking up into my eyes as he held my cheeks in his small, soft hands. The new kid continued in a gentler, less harsh voice, "He's done it once, who's to say he won't do it again?" When he said it like that, in that petite, fragile voice, how could I doubt him? He beamed after seeing the newfound trust I placed in him, "Then let's grab something to drink and have a damn good time!"

...

I was drunk, but my head hurt. There was just this nagging in the back of my mind, like I had forgotten something really important. It probably wasn't even important, though. The new kid kept re-grabbing my attention every time it wandered, although he was a lot drunker than I. His words were slurred, but still translatable, "Less go upstars, Sssstaaaanleeeeey. I think - I think I wunnaa shshow yooooh a game." The mention of a game interested me, "Iss li... Awll yoooh hafta do, is juss, li' fin' tha otha per-persssonn, in cumplee' dark. n is akkly loss mor fun ten how m sayin'. Me n Sssammy play'd all tha tiiime. Iss cooool."

"Kay," I agreed brightly, drunkenly swaying on my feet as I struggled to take a few steps forward, where the staircase was. It probably would have been a bigger mission to climb the stairs than to manoeuvre around in the dark, in my current state. But something had grabbed my arm before I could get anywhere near my destination, "Kenny! What's you doin'?" I asked him, staring hard at the hand that was on my forearm in a vice-like grip.

"Stan..." His voice was threatening, forced out in a low growl. I looked up at his face and first saw that he looked pissed off. I'd be lying if I didn't say I was petrified, even the alcohol couldn't mask the sudden fear I felt. He began to pull me through the slightly dimmed crowd, not even loosening his hold.

The new kid noticed my disappearance, and quickly stumbled towards us, "Waaiii! Weeer yoooh taykin' ma Ssstaaaaannleey?"

"Home." Kenny's voice was short and choppy, like if anyone got in his way he would murder them. I didn't doubt that he would, he already had the look to kill in his eyes. I barely noticed him shove the new kid out of the way when he tried to intervene with his current mission.

Before long, we were in the cold streets, snow sprinkling down from the dark sky above. There was nothing but silence that hung in the air, much louder than the crunching of the snow under our feet. I had no idea what was going to happen, but the second I opened my mouth to speak, Kenny practically threw me on the ground in the snow.

"What the _fuck_ were you _thinking_ Marsh?!" He shouted, bending forward to grab me by the collar of my shirt, "_Why _the fuck did you _walk away_?!" He threw me down again, and I watched him wide-eyed, quickly sobering, "Your best fucking friend?!"

I needed to defend myself, but I didn't even fully understand what we were talking about, "He-he's not my best friend..." Was all I could murmur pathetically, "He walked away from m-"

"_I don't fucking care_!" He seethed lowly, trying to calm himself down, "Honestly, I don't fucking give a shit about how much you hate him; he _couldn't breathe_! Kyle was choking on his own fucking blood, and you fucking walked away! You couldn't even stay to help him out?! I could go into great detail about how fucking painful a way suffocation is to die, but the motion would be lost on you." I stayed silent, trembling as Kenny lowered himself so his face was directly above mine, and our noses were touching.

"You're not going to be happy until his sickness kills him, are you Stan?"


	2. Day Seven

**Yaaaaay! It's an *early* update! I was so into this chapter and once I was motivated, it was done in no time, and am pretty proud of how it turned out, at least, how 90% of it turned out... Heh. I'm particularly fond of the scenes with just Stan and Kyle, but I'm going to work a little more on the bond Kenny has with Kyle in the next chapter.**  
**I know that some of this is rushed, and it's mostly deliberately done like that as this is Stan looking back on things; some part's he's more familiar with, and they'll be more detailed as the memory is still sort of engraved, one would say, and the parts he isn't able to remember as well will come out not as detailed, poorly written (not that everything else isn't written poorly) and relatively rushed and 'skippy' or 'jumpy'. So, I hope you like this update anyway, it's another one that's over 10'000 words! YAY!**  
**-N; awh, I really hope you'll be able to manage the rest of the story if you were already close to tears from the first chapter. Thank you!**  
**-1999luke2; thank you! I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!**  
**-AKA 24601; heh heh, thank you so much for the kind words, I really hope I don't let you down! You have got most of it down to a 't', which makes me happy!**  
**-BubbleG00se; thank you, it's really nice to know I was able to get that kind of reaction!**  
**South Park © Matt & Trey**

* * *

_At first I felt grief and confusion, then anger and pain, but as time went on I just had a bitter feeling towards you. _

_You walked away from me; rejected the help I could have given you. _

_Why did you cast me aside? How could you cast me aside so easily? _

_I needed to understand, but I couldn't come up with a reason as to what gave you the right to act like I was just another faceless student in the halls. _

_Then you came back. I had lost you for an entire year, and then you came back to me. _

_I didn't want to fight with you, but I had a lot of pent up anger, you have to believe me. I_

_didn't understand, but now I do. It was probably the kindest thing you've ever done... _

_and the stupidest._

-.-.-.-

I don't remember much about what happened after Kenny left me in the snow all alone, afraid, as that one sentence swirled around in my brain. I really don't, but I _do_ remember finding myself at the Broflovski's house, just staring up numbly. It was three in the morning, no one would be awake and I was still a little drunk. I hadn't even been there in over a year, and I doubted Sheila and Gerald would have been impressed with my sudden presence at such an hour. Ike most probably wouldn't care, though.

But they didn't matter, anyhow. All I needed to do was climb up to the second story in order to reach my destination. Fuck, how did I do it all of them other times without falling? I had even done it completely pissed on numerous occasions, and the only thing that was stopping me at that moment was inexperience. I hadn't had any need to do it in over a year.

Ahh fuck it. If I died trying, it would only be a matter of time before I saw him again, anyway.

...way to keep positive about the whole ordeal, Marsh...

The next thing I knew, I was on the roof... well, most of me was. It's probably best if don't really expand on it, since I'm still at a loss as to what actually happened. But when I pushed on the window a little, I realized that it was locked. It never occurred to me that the window being locked was a possibility.

So there I was. Half on the roof, and half not, a little tipsy, and unsure how to get down since I couldn't even remember how I got up there; I was screwed. Until I realized that I could tap on the glass, that is. Maybe he would still be willing to talk to me, even though I totally didn't deserve it.

I heard some shuffling on the inside, before a light turned on, and, a few seconds after, the window was opened revealing a semi-conscious, confused looking redhead, "Stan? What are you doing?"

"Uh... No clue, to be honest," I forced out, as I practically fell into his room. It still looked the exact same as it did the year previous. Same posters, same decor... There were even the same photos, most of them were just the two of us, but there were more with Kenny, and even Cartman. Some had Craig and his gang in them. It was... endearing. I finally turned to the pale faced teen, who was rubbing his eyes and yawning quietly; I must have woken him up, "Please don't tell me that it's true,"

"Huh?" His green eyes were dulled, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep, but he forced a casual smile anyway, shutting the window tightly before turning back to sit on the foot of the bed with wobbly, unco-ordinated steps, "What am I denying for you?" He asked, sounding a little more awake than earlier.

Suddenly, my hands seemed like the most interesting thing in the world as my heart rose to my throat, "Kenny said... He said that you were dying, because of some sickness you had. Tell me that it's not true, _please_, just tell me that it's not true."

"Oh," He yawned again, rubbing at his eyes, "Well then, it's not true."

I smiled, completely relieved, "You really mean it?" He stayed silent for a few moments, and his sleepiness had nothing to do with it, I realized upon noticing him trying to avoid my gaze, "You're not dying are you? Kyle...?"

"We, er, need to have a talk," he pat the bed a few times, encouraging me to sit by his side, and when I did he didn't look in my direction, just yawned once more as he shook his head a little, trying to think properly. I felt completely nauseous. "You remember how I had to go out of town, but I wouldn't tell you where, both a week before, and a day after, we last spoke?" I could barely feel myself doing it, but I nodded, "Well, that 'mystery place' was a hospital with the best doctors in the area. I had been feeling a little under the weather with some symptoms that showed it was more than a common cold. The doctors at South Park brushed it aside as purely puberty, so I decided to go to a higher source a few weeks later, when my chest aches were crippling, and my nose bleeds had become a lot more frequent. They said I had-"

"I don't want to know," I whispered, eyes filled to the brim with tears, although he was mostly emotionless, "I don't want to know what's killing you, dude..." If I knew I would probably be constantly looking it up on the internet, reading about how he was going to die, reading about all the pain he had been suffering alone.

Kyle nodded feebly, finally looking at me with large eyes, "All you should know is that it's rare, and, well, there's no known cure. All that they can treat are the symptoms. There's nothing that's going to put an end to this, Stan. Th..." tears spilled, rolling down his pale cheeks, "That's why I left. The doctor said that I would probably only have two weeks before it would take me, and I would die. I thought that it would be best that you didn't know, if I just died with us still being, us. But after the first week, I couldn't handle it. I was keeping such a big thing from you, and I couldn't tell you because it would ruin everything. At times I would forget completely, but then the realization that I was dying would hit me full force. I couldn't handle it, dude... I just couldn't. It was selfish of me to leave you with nothing more than a note, but... I thought I only had a little less than a week left."

I wiped away my own tears, just as he did himself. He was laughing bitterly, and then sighed after a little sniffle, glancing up at the ceiling as I looked at him closely. Despite the paleness of his skin, and the heavy bags under his eyes, he still looked the same, which was comforting. "Why did you let me hit you, dude?"

"You needed to," He shrugged, taking a deep breath, "It's not something that I couldn't handle, anyway. If I thought that your hits would have killed me on the spot, I wouldn't have instigated you to do it. You'd probably blame yourself, even though it would have just been bad judgment on my part." He shrugged again, "It took away a lot of your fight to get all that off your chest, and it wouldn't have felt right to just unload all of this stuff onto you like that. I don't know, you were vulnerable, and that's when you need me most, therefore, the most forgiving state you would have been in. I'm a terrible person, aren't I?"

Kyle surprised me with a grin, nearly making me gag from the whole situation, "Why are you not, you know?! Why are you acting so chill about this? You're dying, how can you be laughing when your life is going to be taken away completely?!"

His smile faltered a little, but he watched me knowingly, "Because there's no way I can escape the outcome, Stan. I'd rather not spend my last moments of my life fearing death, when I could accept it and be happy while I can. You know? I've had plenty of time to be in denial about this whole thing, to just lay numbly, wondering when my final breath is taken. I just want to find at least a bit of enjoyment before I go."

"Why now?"

"Because, I'm now positive of when I'm going to die," He explained gently, "The doctor said a different amount of time, but he's fucked me over enough with the dates, and I decided that I was smarter than him, and more knowledgeable. So I ran tests on myself, and came to the conclusion." He smiled, standing up with his back to me as he took a few steps forward.

I didn't want to yet know his conclusion, so I asked him something else first, "How long has he known?"

"Who? Kenny?" Another slow, deliberate step was taken, he seemed to be heading towards the door at an incredibly slow pace, not that it bothered me or anything, it was merely an observation, "Well, I wanted you to be the first to know, Stan. I really did. But you went home after our confrontation at school, and I decided that I'd need a bit of a hand getting you to talk to me. So, yesterday after school ended. He reacted... oddly." He took a few more steps in silence, until he was at the bedroom door, hand raised a little uncertainly, "I've never seen him so..." I didn't catch the words he spoke.

"How long?" I could barely ask it, and it felt like my heart had completely stopped and my body had turned to stone. The way his arm dropped to his side and how he turned his head a little to look at me with that quiet expression didn't really give me much hope.

"I've only got seven days, Stan."

Fuck.

"I didn't want to spend my last few days being hated by my best friend, which is why I'm asking for a week of your time. I need normality, for things to be like they were before all... _this_. Just pretend to be my friend again, despite all I've done to hurt you. It's a big ask, I know."

I smiled weakly as he turned back to stare at the door, "I don't wanna pretend, Ky... I've missed you."

Kyle finally turned off the light, and I heard the shuffling of his feet as he walked toward his bed, climbing in and pulling the blankets over his body. Through the darkness, lit up only by the moon, I saw him look at me expectantly, and I thought that he was going to ask me to leave. Instead, he lifted the blankets, inviting me under to share the warmth. Huddled together, nose to nose, just like old times. Although, unlike the old times, where he would complain about the smell of alcohol on my breath, he just smiled and whispered into the silence, "It'll all be OK,"

* * *

I woke up to the smell of coffee, which was good, and bright sunlight which streamed into the room, which was _not_ good. Sitting up proved effort since my head was aching horribly, more likely due to stress than an actual hangover. There was a blurred figure across from me, close to where the light was coming in, and it took a few moments of dreary blinking to be able to see who it was.

"K-Kyle?" I stammered out dumbly, and he looked up, smiling a little. It was silent for a few moments, and I was certain that I was still asleep; why else would I be in my old friend's room, and why else would he actually be smiling at me? I went to move myself, only for a particularly powerful dagger to be thrown straight through my head. I most definitely was not asleep.

He looked amused as he stood up from his chair, picking something up from his desk. I wasn't sure if he was real or not, until he handed me the warm cup filled with a brown liquid that smelled strongly of coffee. I brought it to my lips, watching Kyle hesitantly as I slowly drank the hot, sweet tasting drink. "We don't have coffee, so I went down to Tweek Bros while you were still sleeping," He said gently, shuffling through his draws until he found a packet of Panadol and handed it to me, quickly adding, "For you headache. A-and I made you some breakfast for when you woke up. It's downstairs, still warm."

"You're trying too hard..." I mumbled finally, as the headache began to subside and I started to remember the events of the night. "You don't have to try and make up for anything, dude. If anything, I owe you." It made me feel horrible to have him treating me so highly, even after I walked away from him as he was choking on his blood; with a reasoning that was entirely my fault. I couldn't believe I dumbly trusted the new kid after what he did to Kyle, all because I was vulnerable.

There was a quiet laugh, which surprised me, as did most things the red head did, "If I was trying too hard there would be rose petals scattered across the floor, and some random guy in the corner playing the violin, and I would wake you with a kiss!" The biggest change I would begin to notice was how much more Kyle would smile and make silly little jokes like that, and how much less he would allow things to affect him. It was like his sickness made him invincible, and now that we were together again, like we always used to be, nothing could stop him.

"I have to admit I'm kinda disappointed that you didn't go all out, now." I joked along with him, although it was obviously a lot more forced. How did he act so... normal? I was having a hard time not focusing on the fact that he was dying, but he carried on as if nothing was wrong, and as if the last time we spoke like this wasn't over a year earlier. He could tell that I was struggling to adjust, and I have to admit that, although a little off-putting, his eager and laid-back attitude really helped make me believe like things might just turn out okay. Even if I knew that it wasn't the case.

He pouted, pretending to be upset with his decision, "I'm real sorry, Stan. But hey, there's always tomorrow?" Kyle then beamed, pulling on my wrist to make me stand up, careful that the hot coffee didn't spill everywhere. He seemed excited, but I couldn't tell if it was for my sake or if it was genuine excitement, "So, breakfast! I made it myself, and, since I haven't cooked anything in _ages_, I hope you don't mind being my guinea pig, or lab rat depending on how you want to look at this." He was barely taking a breath in-between each word, and it sounded more like gushing than actually talking, not that I minded of course. He had been on his own for so long, whereas I still had Kenny and Cartman there to keep me sane. "Also, I didn't want you to suffer with Ma's healthy, tasteless crap she calls food, so I even raced to the store to get decent stuff." It was like he was making up for lost time.

However, if the way he spoke wasn't enough proof, the breakfast he had made certainly was. "Uh, Kyle... How many people are you feeding?" For what I saw that morning was surely enough food to feed an army, and not just _any_ army, but an army of Eric Cartmans. It was horrendous. It didn't seem possible. He had done this all while I was asleep? It's barely ten in the morning now, and the shops don't open 'til seven!

"I didn't know what you'd feel like," He admitted with a sheepish grin, pulling out a chair for me at the dining table, "And I didn't know how hungry you'd be. Think of this as making up for the lacking rose petals and violinist." He joked, pushing me in when I hesitantly sat. "Did you want more coffee? I can go get you some. Oh! I got juice, too!"

"Sit." I had to force the word out, overwhelmed by his enthusiastic energy. He was far too lively to be the Kyle Broflovski I knew, and I'm not saying that the change was unwelcomed, it was just... unusual. But I knew what he was doing. He was trying to fill in the silence; he was trying to stop me from thinking long enough to change my mind. He knew that I knew what he was doing, and he looked genuinely embarrassed for a few moments, apologizing quietly as he sat to my side. "You didn't have to do all this, you know. I mean, the coffee itself was more than good." I smiled at him, to show him that I was going to stay, "You said you needed me, so just me be needed, alright? Don't try to bribe me."

"It's not-" He cut himself off, suppressing a small, sheepish smile, "Alright, _maybe_ just a little. And _maybe_ I did go overboard. Just a little. Sorry, alright? Don't kill me; I've already been scheduled for an appointment!" He cracked up at his own joke, but it just made me feel worse. But what was I expecting? It was good that he had accepted his fate, really! But it was still made me feel uneasy to watch him laugh about his certain death. But just as quick as it started, his laughter stopped, and he looked highly apologetic, "I'm sorry, dude. I forget you've only known for a few hours. It's just... I accepted this whole thing a while ago, and I need to remember that you necessarily haven't."

I stared at my hands, guilty to have been the reason his good mood was brought down so quickly. But he was waiting patiently for anything I might have had to say on that subject. "I'll get used to it, don't mind me." But I doubted that I would, despite all that had happened, he was still my best friend, and I didn't want to watch him die, knowing that there would be no cure. There would be no way to save him last minute. I only had a week before I lost him again. It wasn't fair, though. I needed more time.

"Hey," He said softly as he gently rubbed my back in comfort, it was then that I noticed I was crying. I was okay. I _was_ okay. I had to be. I had to show Kyle that I could be like him and put on a brave face, that I could accept the oncoming death. I had to prove that when I looked at him, I wouldn't automatically wonder if he was wrong, and his final breath was just seconds away, not days away. He just had to believe that when I looked at him, I saw him as he was, and not him as some frail, dying teen. Even if I didn't believe it, even if it wasn't true, he just had to believe it true. "Stan, all I asked for was a week of your friendship, for things between us to be like they used to. Asking you to accept everything that you've been told is not what I ever expected. It would be very wrong of me to throw this on you and demand that you deal with it. If you're in denial, be in denial. I'd rather it be now, when I can help you through it personally, than when I'm already gone."

"I'm fine," I forced out with a wavering grin, and he clearly didn't believe me. "I don't want to bring you down, you're so happy." I sighed, and smiled, a real smile this time, at the look he was giving me, "It's... It'll be OK, Kyle. Really. Everything's just so sudden."

He beamed reassuringly, "Now eat, my child, _eat_. After this we play the good Samaritans and give food to the poor! This week's contestant is;" He thrust his hands up into the air, laughing with a high spirited humour, "Kenny! Yaaaaay!"

* * *

Getting to Kenny's certainly was an adventure on its own, as there was a _lot_ of food, and we had to wrap everything up and put them all into a wheel-barrel which was warmed with blankets. Kyle refused to drive, saying that it was barely a five minute walk, and the fresh air and exercise was a lot better than wasting away brain cells and becoming fat and lazy by driving around everywhere.

When he spoke it was still gushed and excitable, and he was curious to know which college I was going to, and what I was studying, he seemed pleased at my answers, almost as if he had already guessed and been correct. I guess it made him happy to know that I was still mostly the same Stan Marsh as I was last year. He told me that his father had expected him to become a lawyer, but confessed that, if anything, he wanted to be a scientist so he could wear the dorky looking lab coat and goggles. His catchphrase would be 'FOR SCIENCE!'

He asked me about how things were with Wendy, and if I had my sights set on someone new. Actually, he asked a lot of questions, but tended to try and avoid asking about my home life, the closest he got to touching that subject was asking about Shelley who was out of state living with her boyfriend as they went to college together.

But we had arrived at Kenny's rundown house in no time, and even though I was honestly a little scared, I put on a brave face for the merry looking teen who knocked on the door with a hum on his breath. "Kenny!" Kyle grinned broadly, wrapping his arms around the blonde when he had opened the door, a little surprised. I'd be lying if I didn't admit to being a little jealous. "You look like you've just woken up."

"I've been playing superhero all night," Kenny admitted as he pulled away from the hug, wearing a tired and small, but happy smile, "But look at you, all rainbows and ponies and all that fucking soppy shit. You look real good." Kyle beamed, twirling himself on the spot as if to show himself off flamboyantly, and Kenny wolf whistled, "Damn, dude. How much per hour?"

"I think I could cut you a deal," But then his bright green eyes turned to me, and his smile dimmed a little as he cocked his head a little. I could feel the blonde's tense blue eyes burn into me, he was pissed, and he had every right to be since Kyle wasn't punishing me in any way, despite the fact that I had left him choking in the snow. After a few moments of silence, the redhead had poked me, feigning innocence as if I hadn't just watched him do it, "So, anyway..." He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, before smiling warmly at our other friend, stepping out of the way a little to show off the very big wheel-barrel, "Many thanks, happy Hanukkah and merry Christmas! A-and, happy birthday and any other occasion! We bring you enough food to last you and your family a week!"

My heart ached. That's how much longer he had to live. And even though Kenny looked extremely grateful, and Kyle was extremely proud of himself for cooking everything, it didn't dim the sickening feeling any less. They exchanged words and joked a bit, but I didn't pay attention. I couldn't pay attention. No matter how hard I tried to forget, the truth was right there in bold, unignorable text. My best friend was going to die. And I'd never get to see him again.

God was playing a cruel, twisted joke.

I had lost my bestest friend in the entire world, left with nothing but a crummy little note, his blank stares whenever I tried to approach him, unanswered calls or texts and a young Canadian boy who was probably paid to tell me his older brother wasn't home. Then he came back, and even though I hated him, I was glad. Glad because I had missed him, glad because I had missed his company and the way he looked at me like he _knew_ me. I was glad for many reasons. But he was going to be taken away again, permanently this time. What if he had have died with me hating his guts? What if I had found out, while he was dead, that he had been avoiding me all that time because he was dying?

Kyle didn't deserve to die.

If anyone did, it was me; I should have seen all the signs. He was my _best friend_, I should have known. I should have realized when he got upset about one of my comments on our last night together, and if not then, the note's content and how he went about his departure should have been proof enough. "Stan?" It was him, he was worried. I didn't want him to worry about me. He should have been worrying about himself. It pissed me off that he didn't put his declining health into consideration, but I forced a smile at him. He didn't smile back. "Let's go," He tugged on my wrist, urging me to walk with him back in the direction of his house. I hadn't even realized that Kenny had left, and the food filled barrel wasn't even outside anymore. There were a whole lot of things I didn't realize. "You remember how we watched the High School Musical trilogy back when we were about 9 or 10?"

I sent him an odd look at his strange choice of topic, "Yeah?" Of course I remembered, not that I wanted to of course. It was humiliating, one of the stupidest ideas I'd had to try and win Wendy Testaburger's attention and affection. One of, not _the_. But looking back on it now, it had kind of been fun, just the four of us guys choreographing some gay little dance as we sang. Humiliating, pointless and gay, but it had been fun. Sort of.

"You remember the song in one of the movies?" He smiled a little, eyes trained forward as he walked evenly beside me. Was he being a smartass? There were _three_ movies and there were like a _billion _songs all together! How was I supposed to know what he was referring to when I had a one in a billion chance to get it right? "What time is it, Stan?"

"Summer time?" I asked hesitantly, unsure if that was the answer he was looking for, and a little ashamed to have remembered the catchy song. His smile widened a little knowingly, and he chuckled quietly, letting me know that I had guessed correctly.

"Exactly."

That confused me. What did he mean 'exactly'? It wasn't Summer. The snow that thickly covered the ground and crunched under our feet, the small and delicate snowflakes that danced down from the sky and the numbing chill that bit savagely at exposed skin was proof of that. I laughed a little, he had lost his mind! The cold must have gone to head, making him delusional! He joined in laughing with me, laughing harder when I tried, and failed, to ask him seriously "Doesn't this heat just wanna make you want to go Starks Pond for a nice, rejuvenating swim?"

"I'm sure we could take a detour, dude," He said in a much more convincing tone than mine after he had finally managed to calm down his laughter into snickers. We stopped at his door, and that was when I suddenly realized what he had done. I was miserable, stuck both between the horrible past, and the daunting future, but he had made me forget and allowed me to enjoy the present, if just for a little while. He caught my gaze as he unlocked the door, smiling innocently as he knew perfectly well that he had been caught out, "May I help you with something, Stan?"

Kyle was a much better friend than I.

"Don't," He said in a low, pained voice as he gently pushed me inside, out the cold. "Don't look like that." I was quiet, unsure of what he meant and a little afraid to ask, but followed him up the stairs to the room. It was a little awkward in the silence as he rummaged through his draws, mumbling a little to himself until he finally spoke aloud, "You haven't grown much, have you? I mean, you look about the same height, but unless I pull out a tape measure I won't know for sure." He paused to turn and look at me with the big smile of his, "And we both remember what happened the last time that happened."

I did smile back at him, although sheepishly, admitting that I had only grown an inch or two and was about to ask why when he thrust some clothes into my chest. Not just any clothes but _my_ clothes. From a year ago. Since we spent so much time at each other's houses, we tended to keep a set of clothes at the other's house, and suddenly I felt guilt guilty. He really kept my stuff? He thrust a new toothbrush on top of the small pile I already had. "As much as I love your alcoholic smell, I don't think anyone else does quite so."

The bedroom was empty when I got out of the shower, fully dressed in clean clothes that still fit as well as they had when I first wore them, and took a chance with venturing downstairs, only to regret it immensely. There stood Sheila and her bright, fire truck red hair, looking as domineering as always, and before I could return to safety she had spotted me, and immediately rested her hand on my shoulder in a way that might fool someone into thinking she just wanted a friendly chat. But I knew better. I knew that I was her prisoner. "Stanley," She began in that shrill voice that might have been one of affection. I couldn't tell the difference between her tones, they all sounded belittling, loud and annoying. "It's been so long, I haven't seen you in ages." She might have put emphasis on the 'ages', but one can't be certain.

"Ma, leave him alone." Kyle sighed in mock irritation, a smile still lighting his face, "He didn't come here to be interrogated, so go ask Ike what he did Tuesday night with his friends or something." He usually did that, shifting her attention onto something else that would pique her nosy interests. Unfortunately it was his brother who tended to get most the heat, although the young Canadian was always much better at lying to his mother than poor Kyle who believed strongly in honesty.

"It's not interrogating," Sheila assured her son, hand still resting on my shoulder, "But I've already checked in on Ike, so, young man. Would you like to join us in our fight against Fanta being produced?" Did I want to join their crusade? FUCK NO! Did I have a choice? FUCK NO! But Kyle quickly took the bullet, saying that I was too busy with college and whatnot. "Oh, Kyle! Isn't it a shame you both can't go to the same school,"

"I told you ma, I don't want to be lawyer." He grumbled, rolling his eyes before grinning, "There's a consultation in two weeks' time for the school I really want to go to, because they let people join late, and it would _really_ be _very_ awesome if you could let me borrow the car to drive there!" He cooed, batting his eyelashes persuasively, and I froze. Was he lying to his _mother_ or was he lying to both _me and Kenny_? Kyle, who was honest to the point of brutality in some cases? Kyle who stuck firmly to his beliefs? He wasn't stupid enough to lie to Kenny and I, but lying to his mother was a death wish! "You're no fun, ma." I was snapped out of the worrying thoughts by a pouting boy. Since when the fuck did he _pout_? "I can't believe I was talked out of driving and talked into helping Aunt out."

Sheila tsked, and turned her attention back onto me, but I was still frozen. Kyle had lied. Kyle never lied. If he did, he'd be eaten alive by his guilt, and would end up confessing. "So Stanley, I can barely remember the last time I saw you. You look healthy, much unlike my poor boubie this past year." Her son looked like he wanted to stop her, but I urged her on, curiously. I wanted to find out who Kyle was lying to, and why. "He's been so sick, the doctor said that there was no chance of him surviving, but now, a year later, my dear boy tells me he's getting better!" She removed her hand from my shoulder, petting the younger Jew's hair as if in appraisal, the look in his eyes was guilt, pure guilt, and I felt guilty myself. "I knew the doctor was wrong, we Broflovski's are the fighter type, and no illness is going to kill us quite that easily! I just really wish he wasn't surviving on his medication right now. Just one missed dose and my poor baby could be taken away from me forever."

"Ma..." He whispered, looking like he was about to cry before he glanced at me with a weak smile, cleared his throat and grinned at his mother again, "So, does this mean I can borrow the car in a fortnight? I _really_ wanna go because they let us put on lab coats and goggles in the orientation!" His grin didn't disappear when she firmly told him no, and that he was to help his aunt, and his grin didn't even disappear when his mother had left the house with a few parting words. "It was worth a shot. C'mon Stan." He tugged on the sleeve on my jacket, but I wouldn't budge. Finally, his grin disappeared. He wouldn't meet my eyes, "I-I'm sorry. If she knew the truth she'd lock me up in the hospital simply so I could live an extra day or so. I want things to be normal again."

"Things aren't normal anymore, Ky..." I croaked with a sigh and he frowned defiantly, causing me to think for a few moments that he would protest, but he didn't, "You're sick, so things aren't going to magically going to be fine, no matter how much we want them to be. So, just... Come clean now. _Please_. What else is there?" If he wanted me to stay he had to be honest with me, not that I'd even think of leaving, of course. So that point was probably void. But still.

He hesitated a little, "I thought that mentioning the fact that missing a day of medication would kill me would have been a little overwhelming, so I figured that I should save you the stress." He shrugged, tugging on my sleeve again, "And, uh... Although I'm not in any way contagious, it's probably best we don't have sex or any of that shit everyone thinks we do." He was grinning again.

* * *

We were standing at the bus stop, something we hadn't done since early high school. I didn't quite understand why we were here until I asked the question hesitantly. No matter what happened, Kyle said, we would all be standing at the bus stop, unscathed, and ready for whatever our wacky, shithole town had to throw at us next. He said that he'd like to think that having the four of us standing at the place which usually stood for a new beginning would be a good way to symbolically start afresh. I light heartedly called him a fag, because it's what I would have said in normal circumstances. He grinned, happy with my half-assed insult.

It was when Kenny showed up that things took a turn for the worst. He was still glaring at me for what I had done last night, and I knew it would take a while before he forgave me, not that I wanted him to. But nonetheless I cringed in his presence, the cheery redhead either didn't notice the obvious tension, or didn't want to press on it. It was probably the latter.

It wasn't the glaring, or the way Kyle tried to remain oblivious that made things turn to shit. It was when Kenny decided that he had had enough of watching me cower, wanting me to step up and be punished for my actions. He didn't believe that I genuinely wanted to be there, he was suspicious of my actions. There was something about death that made the blonde unlike himself; it was an incredibly touchy subject for him. "So Marsh," He began not unkindly, "left anyone behind to die, lately?" He said it so casually, and that just made me feel worse. I bowed my head, because, honestly, what could I say to that? 'Nope, just Kyle'?

"Hey," Kyle said in an innocent, yet obviously forced merry voice as he raised one of his hands to show a small, but very detailed snowflake, "Look at this one. You'll never find one like it. Isn't that _cool_?" A second one fell beside it, "Wow! Look at how _unalike_ these badass motherfucking snowflakes are! Doesn't this just _amaze _you?!"

"What amazes me is how big a dick Marsh can be." Kyle tried to hint at Kenny to drop it by talking really loudly about snowflakes and a whole bunch of boring facts about them that he pretended to find interesting. "No one gives a fuck about the God damn snow, Kyle!" He snapped roughly, "Show Marsh what he did!" Kyle hastily shook his head, refusing, brows furrowing. "Show the fucker what he did to you!" Kyle shouted out his refusal, Kenny scoffed, "Grow back your spine, Kyle! Show Marsh what he did!" Again, his demand was refused.

"Show me."

He looked taken aback at my quiet comment, but stayed firm, "No, Stan! I'm _not_ going to show you! Kenny, drop it!" Kenny didn't drop it, no. He decided that if Kyle wasn't going to willingly show me, it would be followed through with by using force. It was startling to see how easily he managed to hold back our dying friend's arms, who, by the way, was kicking and shouting profanities, and even more startling was how effortlessly he managed to unzip the thick coat, and pull up his shirt to reveal a flat black, blue and purple stomach, a black and blue shoulder and, worst of all, his chest which was painted in a dark bruising that looked more black than anything, and extremely painful.

It had all been my fault. I had hit him. I had let that fucking new kid hit him. Kyle could have died because of me! I wouldn't have gotten the chance to be his friend again! Realistically, no matter how hard I tried, if Kyle kept harassing me to be forgiven, I would have most probably caved in. I was a coward. An asshole, a dick, a horrible person, a coward- "Open your fucking eyes Marsh! Are you fucking proud of yourself?"

I snapped then, "Yes Kenny! Is that what you wanted to hear?! I am so fucking proud of what I did to my best fucking friend?! This is _exactly_ what I fucking intended?! Do you want more?! I'm so fucking glad that I pretended to like that fucking short, annoying _asshole_ to get back at Kyle, and I would oh so _gladly_ do it again?! Is that what you wanted to fucking hear?! Or did you want more?!" I bit down on my tongue, calming myself down with a huff of breath, but I wasn't finished yet, there was still more, although I wasn't shouting anymore, "I deserve to be hated, _not_ forgiven, I _know_ that. But this is _not _what I wanted, alright? I can't fix this, but with whatever crappy God that is watching this as my witness, I will do something, _anything_, to make damn sure that this _thing_ we have here isn't broken."

"You're such a fucking fag, Stan." He commented with a lazy grin, setting down the frazzled and extremely pissed off looking Jew who looked ready for blood.

"I know."

"What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking asshole?!" Kyle shouted, hands clenched by his sides as he stared venomously at the blonde; this was the first time I had seen him pissed since he first approached me yesterday, and knowing Kyle, that was a very shocking feat considering all of the fucked up shit that had happened in such short amount of time. "I said _NO_!" He threw a hard punch at Kenny on the word 'no', and the blonde stumbled a little, wincing although overall fine with the hit. "I told you _NO_ last night, and I told you _NO_ today but you don't fucking listen!" With each harshly emphasized 'no', another punch was thrown. But then he turned to me, just as pissed off as he straightened his shirt and zipped up his jacket. "_You_! You're just as fucking bad! Don't you dare fucking blame this on yourself you fucking dick! I don't care what Kenny says, because I _made_ you hit me! You haven't done anything wrong besides do what I wanted you to do! I wanted you to move on without me and get a new best friend ...granted it was a horrible choice of friend, considering you don't even like him... and you _did_! I wanted you to hit me, and you _did_! I wanted you to be my friend, and you're here, aren't you?!" His features softened as he quietened down, "If you keep looking at me with that lost puppy expression of yours I'm going to have to castrate you. It's really fucking sad, Stan." He hugged me after that, burying his face into the crook of my neck, and much like our last night, I wasn't sure if he was crying or not. "Really fucking sad..." He probably was.

It was then that Cartman showed up, and it was a surprise that we heard his voice before he heard the loud, heavy crunching on his feet, "Aw, how cute! The hippy and Jew-rat decided to become fuck buddies again! And by 'cute' I mean completely fucking disgusting. Get a room, fags." Cartman had been distraught with the Jews disappearance, even though he originally claimed to enjoy it, as there was no one anywhere near as fun as to pick on. When Kyle left, he completely ignored the large boy's insults, comments, threats and overall presence.

The redhead pushed away from me and grinned at the intruder in a genuinely bright mood, much unlike what it was three seconds prior, "Aw, Cartman! You're just jealous that you're missing out on all of the lovin' going on here!" He proceeded to latch himself onto the teen, snuggling himself into the cushiony fat that encased his body like a protective bubble, a sight which frightened me, "but it's OK because there's enough to go around; even enough for _you_."

The brunette pushed away the skinny boy, flushing angrily as he hurled at least a dozen insults in his direction in the one breath, and, believe me, when you're as fat as he is, you don't really have that much of a breath to start with. "McCormick's the last straight man standing, huh?" Kenny commented almost smugly over the top of the much heavier voice. "Stay the fuck away from me Kyle! I like vagina! I fucking like that shit so don't touch me with your cooties!" With a quiet thud they were both on the ground, I was a little awkward, unsure and afraid, and Cartman was downright disgusted, looking a little green in the face as if he might have thrown up.

He didn't.

Before it could get too bad, Kyle was already on his feet with a large smile, asking what we should all do. But, what _could_ we do? That was the first time in a long time that the four of us had gotten together, and Cartman clearly wasn't even notified of the reasoning, notS that he cared enough to ask of course, telling us to screw ourselves because he was going home. I think Kyle was the one who thanked him for being so generous and letting the three of us hang out at his place to play games and sponge off of him. Despite his protesting, the four of us were soon in his lounge room.

I think it would have been around that time, when Cartman was yelling at Kyle breathing his Jew germs into the air, that my phone had vibrated in my pocket. I didn't even remember putting it in there, less than an hour prior, but apparently I had, and now the new message was confusing me. It was from an unknown number, and I tended not to give my own contact details, but this person seemed to know me. _Stanley! Lst nite waz crzy fun, m i ryt? Dnt worri bout tht a-hole, if ur still bothad by it I cud tak ur mind off of it. U, me & a moo-v bout 2 cowboiz?_

Honestly, it scared me a little so I decided to ignore it, stuffing the mobile back into the pocket of my jeans to see that the blonde had raised a brow at me, in a curious amusement, but didn't comment on it, "I guess I should apologize about earlier, dude, or else I'll be slaughtered for it," He said instead in a low, but most definitely not threatening voice as he wore a kind smile, "But when it comes to death I lose most of my senses, and couldn't remind myself that you're _Stan Marsh_ and you're a fucking pussy who wouldn't be able to stick around Kyle in his situation just to make him suffer before he dies." Was he... Was he forgiving me? I wanted to protest, tell him to be mad at me! It was my fault! It was _my_ fault! "I'm not saying I don't want to kick your ass for last night, but I'll probably take my anger and frustrations out on that stupid little kid."

Again, my phone vibrated in my pocket, and I took it out with a frown. "Sorry Ken," I paused our conversation to read the message. _R u still sleepin? or do u hav a kila hedake lyk me? lol. I jus woke up n thort ud b up n fyn bi now lyk evry otha tym u hav a hangova. lol, ill cum 2 ur place now wiv tht moo-v n sum coffy n brekki 2 briten ur dai! Xoxo_ ...I was honestly growing a little afraid by this mysterious person, and daren't reply despite the fact that they would be going to my house. Fuck. "Uh..." I looked up and forced a weak smile at Kenny, "Dude, you have every right to be mad, and Kyle, most definitely does. I really just want someone to punch me in the face."

The blonde chuckled, shaking his head and saying that he'd gladly do it for me if it wouldn't piss Kyle off, and took a rain check. He was about to continue when Cartman burst into loud, obnoxious tears, throwing his head back and crying for his 'mewm' pathetically with a bright red face. Kyle turned back and glanced at up wearing an innocently sheepish grin, "I may or may not have shown him a picture of me having sex with his mum, and I may or may not have told him that he were going to get married, and I would become his father, and I may or may not have told him his mother was converting to Judaism and he'd no longer be able to celebrate Christmas and he'd have to eat everything kosher." Kenny begged to see the photo, and burst into laughter at how well it had been doctored, but pointed out to me the small tell-tale signs that it wasn't actually real. The worst part was that it really was Lianne Cartman's naked body in the picture. How disgusting. "Eric Theodore Cartman!" Kyle finally snapped in mock seriousness, struggling to keep the laughter from his taut voice, "Since I am going to be your father you're going to have to take all your problems up with me! No more of this 'mummy' business, young man!"

_Stanley? Ur dad say u ddnt cum home lst nite? were r u? r u ok? I m srsly woried 4 u. plz ansa, i m relly panikin rite now. fk. Stanley plz tell me ur safe. fk. did he cum 2 tak u awai bc he waz jelus? fk i m so sori, ill fkn bet his ass nxt tym i c him. hope ur ok. if u dnt reply i will call the pigs 2 fnd u! _I had to put a stop to these creepy texts before the mysterious sender calls the cops and reports me missing, what the fuck? I quickly called the number, mumbling to Kenny a small apology as he caught my action.

They picked up immediately, "YOU FUCKING ANOREXIC FUCKING LOWLIFE ASSHOLE!" Suddenly the room went silent, everyone startled by the loud tone of the caller who must have been shouting into the microphone, "I WILL FIND OUT WHERE YOU LIVE AND I WILL SLIT YOUR FUCKING THROAT FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO STANLEY! NO! I WILL PULL ALL OF YOUR INTESTINES OUT YOUR FUCKING ASS, AND JAM MY HAND DOWN YOUR THROAT AND RIP YOUR FUCKING BLACK HEART OUT FROM YOUR CHEST!" I paled. "THAT'S JUST FOR KIDNAPPING MY BEST FRIEND AND IF I FIND OUT YOU'VE LAID SO MUCH AS A FUCKING FINGER ON HIM I WILL TIE YOU TO A CHAIR IN MY BASEMENT AND TORTURE YOU FOR DAYS ON END AND HAVE A BLACK GUY WITH A MASSIVE COCK FUCKING ASSRAPE YOU SO HARD AND FOR SO LONG YOU'LL HAVE HIS CUM COMING OUT FROM YOUR MOUTH! I'LL CUT YOUR FINGERS OFF ONE BY ONE WITH A FUCKING BUTTER KNIFE AND IF ANYONE TRIES TO FUCKING SAVE YOU I WILL FUCKING HANG THEM TO WALL WITH NAILS AND FORCE YOU TO TORTURE THEM! STANLEY IS MINE YOU FUCKING SICK FUCK! HE'S MINE AND ONLY MINE! SO STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM! IF YOU GIVE HIM BACK NOW I MIGHT GO EASY ON YOU!" Finally there was silence, but I was going to hurl everywhere.

Kyle took the phone from my hand, rolling his eyes but obviously unthreatened, "Hi little firecracker," He practically cooed, earning a snarl from the other end, "What did I say about his name? Four letters, not seven. You really need practice little guy; _Stan_. So, uh. What makes you think I kidnapped him? Well, I mean, obviously I did and he's passed out in my bed right now, until he wakes up and I can do stuff to him that will leave him begging for both mercy and more. But, you know, what was the first clue? There are plenty of people in South Park who'd want to kidnap him, so what makes me so special, my iddy biddy flame?"

Heavy breathing is all that can be heard on the other end for a few moments, but then the screaming threats stream through again, "YOU'RE JUST FUCKING JEALOUS THAT ME AND _STANLEY_ ARE IN LOVE, AND YOU HATE THE THOUGHT THAT HE MIGHT FIND ENJOYMENT IN FUCKING SOMEONE BETTER THAN YOU! THE THOUGHT OF HIS DICK IN SOMEONE ELSE SICKENS YOU BECAUSE YOU KNOW YOU'LL NEVER GET THE CHANCE TO HAVE THAT BOND WITH HIM NEVER, EVER, EVER!" It was then that I puked all over Cartman's floor. I'd rather not think of having my dick in the new kid, let alone Kyle. "SO HOW ABOUT THIS YOU FUCKING SPINELESS FUCK; YOU AND ME?! I WILL FUCKING BEAT YOUR ASS UNTIL YOU FALL UNCONSCIOUS THEN I'LL TIE YOU UP IN MY BASEMENT, KILL YOU SLOWLY AND THEN _STANLEY _AND I WILL MAKE LOVE OVER YOUR DEAD BODY." Kyle laughed, completely amused and entertained, and I puked again, the mess on the floor growing. "I MEAN IT YOU FUCKING SICK FREAK! STARKS POND RIGHT NOW, I'LL BE WAITING FOR YOU TO SHOW UP."

"Can I at least have sex with _Stan_'s unconscious body before I go?" He burst into laughter, not even paying attention to the next stream of threats that echoed through, "I'll be there, little firecracker. Don't you worry your pretty little heart." Kyle hung up, with a joyful sigh, and was about to hand me the phone when he noticed the bile by my feet, "Holy shit, dude!" Cartman began to whine again, only to be shut down by his 'new father'. Kenny stood up and headed straight for the front door.

"Starks Pond, right?"

Then he left. I wanted to follow him, but I couldn't leave my friend behind with Cartman. Obviously I stuck around, until the Fatass' insults directed at Kyle caused me to punch him in the face, the redhead appeared a little startled, but the amusement had not once left his face. "So... We should probably head back, huh?" It pissed me off how easily he was able to take the horrible comments in his stride, when only a year ago they would cause him to throw a 'bit' of a 'tantrum' until he punched the brunette himself.

So that was when we were walking along the streets, both wearing opposite expressions as the snow fell from the sky. "Hey Stan," Kyle finally spoke up, only wearing a small smile instead of his beaming one, he seemed worn out and tired, his breaths more forced and uneasy, "could you teach me to play the guitar?" It was an odd and sudden request, but I didn't dare refuse it. "Thanks. You're like the best in South Park, and I wouldn't dream of being taught by anyone else." He hummed a little as we came to a stop at the front of his house, "You know it's like 5:30, right?" I didn't, and even though the sun was already beginning to set, I hadn't put two and two together. "Ma's pulling an all-nighter for her new campaign against Fanta, dad's out of town on a business trip and Ike will probably be with Filmore. So we'll have the place to ourselves, and you won't be interrogated." He paused, stepping inside as he thought for a moment, "Can you believe we're eighteen? I mean, you'll be turning nineteen soon, but wow. We're so old."

His house felt different to when it did in the morning, I'm not sure if it was just my nerves or if there really was something up, "Feels like it's been longer," I commented casually, "I mean, it felt like we were in the fourth grade for over a decade. But South Park has always been fucked like that." Kyle hummed his agreement, his hand hovering over the landline as he suggested that it be the fact of how eventual those years were. I agreed, but it still felt like it took ten years just for my ninth birthday to follow after my eighth.

Most of the next events blurred together, probably because of how overwhelming everything was, I was blinking a lot, I remember that much, trying to force myself that what was happening, _really_ was happening. Kyle would laugh when I went longer than seven seconds without blinking, although he was clearly nowhere near as bubbly and energetic as he had been in the morning. We ate pizza for tea, watched reruns of Terrance & Phillip, and had idle conversation as Kyle seemed too worn out to fill in the silences that he would have had he more energy. Occasionally I would ask a little about his sickness, and occasionally he would assure me that I was spending too much time worrying and not enough time just enjoying the moment.

He was right, of course, but I worried because I cared. And, if I was being honest, at the moment he looked sick; he looked like the dying teen he was. The bags under his eyes were dark and heavy, seemingly more noticeable underneath the fluorescent light, his skin looked more like a deathly pale rather than an it-snows-every-day kind of pale, his thinness became more obvious, but at least he wasn't skin and bone, and it was easy to see how much effort everything took for him to accomplish. When he yawned for the first time, I suggested we turn in early but he send me an odd look, instead saying that he would like for me to start teaching him how to play the guitar. "Can't be much harder than Guitar Hero," he had said with a secretive grin.

Ike had a guitar, Kyle told me, and we could use that one for the time being, but before we were able to head upstairs the front door opened and there stood a blonde, an unlit cigarette being fiddled with between his lips, "Thought I might come past with the news myself," He said, sporting a particularly large bruise on his cheek and a still bloodied split lip, "He wasn't happy that I was there, which is why I've been 'spared' and he decided to go 'easy' on me. I really suggest you keep away from that kid, Kyle, I know he's only short but I could barely overpower him," He laughs a little bitterly, "Stan, that boy definitely has it good for you. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a shrine dedicated to you or some freaky fucking shit like that."

"I don't see why," I commented quietly, trying not to say anything about the state of his clothes and how ripped and torn and bloodied and wet they were, with large gashes and dark bruises coating his skin while a shoulder sat at an awkward angle, probably dislocated. If Kenny, Kenny fucking McCormick, returned like that after a fight, barely managing to keep the upper hand, it was clearly evident that the single punch he had thrown at Kyle the previous night was nothing compared to what he could do. So why me? Why did this new kid decide to become so infatuated with me that he felt it necessary to try and kill my closest friends to keep me with him, despite the fact I obviously tried to keep a distance, and rarely spoke to him?

He seemed annoying and clingy in that faggy way that Butters was, but a _lot_ less likable. Who would have guessed he'd turn out to be so God damn fucking psychotic?

"I'm glad you're OK," Is what Kyle whispered with a small, sad smile, resting a hand on the blonde's shoulder, before pulling him in for a gentle hug, "and I am so, so grateful for what you did." Not knowing what else to do, and getting caught up in the moment, I threw my arms around the pair of them, apologizing repeatedly for the mess I had gotten us into us. It was a sad moment, but it felt nice just to be able to hug it all out then and there.

Kyle was dying. Kenny was almost defeated. The new kid wanted those closest to me harmed or dead. Everything was completely my fault. Stan Marsh had failed everyone. again.

"You wanna stay the night, Ken?" The redhead asked almost delicately as he began to break our three-way hug, "We can patch you up, tuck you in, read you a bedtime story..." The blonde laughed a little, shaking his head a little, saying that he needed to go see Karen and make sure she was safe. Safe. What a funny word considering the state he was in at that moment. I said a few words to Kenny, although I can't exactly remember what they were, but he gave me his signature crooked grin, saluting us on his way out. "He's such a strong person," Kyle told me quietly, "Even though he's so hurt, and he has his own dramas to deal with, he'll make sure everyone around him is protected. Kenny has always had this aura of invincibility about him, so I'll know he'll be fine Stan. Despite the severity of his wounds, he's always been strong, and will be better again in no time."

He sounded so sure of himself, so positive that everything would be fine, that Kenny's injuries were nothing to be concerned about while he still had his incapability to be brought down.

Kyle yawned again, it _was_ pretty late and the day had been so eventful. I quickly locked the front door before guiding my friend up the stairs and into his room where he practically collapsed onto the bed. He grumbled whenever I tried to coax him out of his clothes, in true Broflovski fashion, and it made me smile that underneath all that high energy and illness stress, his little quirks were still there. So, like I usually did when he passed out, I forced him out from the clothes he had been wearing, righted him in the bed and pulled the blanket up around him securely.

Walking slowly, thoughtfully, I turned off the light, briefly wondering if tonight would be our last night. I pushed the thought aside, putting my complete trust into my best friend. He'd wake up tomorrow. He said he would, and he said he'd wake up the next day, and the next day, and the next day! A week. I had a week. He wasn't going to die any sooner, or any later. I had a week. The thought wasn't comforting, but at least I knew he would still be there tomorrow.

I pulled myself under the blanket with him and he shifted a little so he was facing me. Dreary and half asleep already, he tried to force his eyes open, going cross-eyed in the process, but, like in the early hours of that same day, he smiled and whispered into the silence, "It'll all be OK,"


End file.
